


Safer With You

by Zoe13



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Self-Harm, attempted suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-20 05:53:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoe13/pseuds/Zoe13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles is nearly killed, Derek goes to the Sheriff and tells him about werewolves, convincing him that they aren't all bad, but Stiles needs to get out of the mess. When the pack avoids Stiles to keep him safe, he breaks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will be sad and hopefully it will be well-enough written that you'll all enjoy it. ^_^  
> Loosely inspired by Imagine Dragons' "Demons."

Derek liked to think he could handle his emotions, but he wasn't fooling anyone else. And, right now, he definitely wasn't fooling himself, as he parked in the Stilinksi's driveway. The Sheriff was home, and this time it was him that Derek needed to see. 

Stiles being around the werewolves had always scared him. He was in danger, so much danger- but it had never hit him as hard as it had tonight. It was just another Omega, but this time it had gotten to Stiles and Derek had barely kept the boy from getting his throat ripped out. He knew they needed an intervention, and only the Sheriff could keep Stiles safe. 

He'd been discussing it with the pack (minus Stiles) for a while, and all he'd had to do was inform them that tonight he would be following through with it. They'd reluctantly agreed, even Scott, knowing that Stiles needed to be safe. 

The Sheriff was watching him confusedly through the window, and Derek got out of the car. He met him at the door, and suddenly realized he had no idea how to go about this.

"Hale. Might I ask what you need?"

"I really need to talk to you about Stiles," Derek started, "and it's going to take a while, so could I...um, come in?"

The Sheriff cautiously moved away so Derek could get around him, waving him over to a chair and sitting across from him. 

"So, what did you need to tell me?" he asked. Derek sighed. 

Then he told him about the werewolves, how he'd been born as one. And when the Sheriff interrupted and asked what it had to do with Stiles, Derek told him about Scott and the rest of the pack. 

There were a good ten minutes of silence before Sheriff Stilinski spoke, and when he did, his voice was lined with worry. 

"Why are you telling me this? Don't get me wrong- I'm glad I know...but why now?"

"Stiles views the pack as more important than anything," Derek told him. "He- he almost died tonight and I realized I had to take action. I'm so, so sorry I didn't come before-"

"Hal-Derek. Stop." The Sheriff held up a hand. "I wish I'd been told before, but you are not to blame. I've always been suspicious of you, but now I realize that all you needed was help. All of you. Now please- tell me what to do because I sure as hell don't have a clue."

"I need you to keep Stiles away, to tell him he's no longer pack. I'm warning you- it will hurt him, but he'll be alive then, at least. We've all agreed it's the best way to keep him safe."

"I can see that you're blaming yourself, Derek." The Sheriff placed a hand on Derek's slumped shoulder. "But we both know how stubborn Stiles is. You were right to come to me. I'll keep Stiles away. And- well, if you ever need help, I will help you, really. I know you're all just struggling and I know Scott- he's a good kid, he wouldn't get mixed up in something bad. So I trust you to be as careful as you can."

"Thank you, Sheriff." Derek stood and strode to the door. 

"Derek." he turned to see the Sheriff watching him. "Thank you. I know how hard that must have been."

"I did it for Stiles," Derek said hoarsely, before he turned and left.  
__

The Sheriff sighed, running a hand through his hair for the thirteenth time before the door banged open. 

"I'm home dad!" Stiles' voice called. 

"I'm in your room," the Sheriff called back. "Come on up. I need to talk to you."

Stiles appeared in the doorway, expression wary as he set his backpack on his bed and sat next to it. "Yeah?"

"Derek was just here." Stiles tensed up, and the Sheriff cringed, already seeing it was Stiles' protective side that was going to be the real problem. "Look, Stiles, I know. About the werewolves, and the Argents, and you. How you're the only human-"

"Lydia is a human."

"Apparently she's becoming an amazing witch. Damn, I never thought I'd ever say that. Anyway, look. You need to get out of that."

"Dad! I can't just-"

"Stiles! Listen to me. Derek told me that you almost died tonight. You could have died and I wouldn't know why!" He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "I know it's not Derek's fault- the kid is lost but he wants you safe, and so I'll be helping them out when they need it. But you are staying away."

"You can't do that!" Stiles protested wildly. "I need them and they need me!"

"I am ordering you, Stiles! Stay away from them!"

"Dad! They need me- I'm pack!"

"Stiles...Derek told me to tell you that they all came to an agreement- you're not pack anymore. They all decided that. Even Scott."

"No," Stiles whimpered. "Stop it. You're lying...they wouldn't say that!"

"Ask them, Stiles," he told the boy, his heart heavy.

"Stop it!" Stiles cried out, covering his face as a strangled sob escaped him.

"I'm so sorry," the Sheriff told him, before he turned and left, closing the door behind him. 

Upstairs he heard Stiles sobbing alone.


	2. Chapter 2

He was lying. Lyinglyinglying. It was all a lie, it had to be.   
He felt feverish from crying so long. Why had he been crying? It was all lies, right? It was all lies. They still wanted him, still needed him. His dad was just scared; he could forgive him for lying. 

But why did it feel so real? Why was his stomach flipping and why had he cried like he'd lost everything before dropping to the floor, numb?

And why had his father looked so sincere?

No! It was a lie- he'd been lying. It wasn't true. His pack needed him as much as he needed them. 

Standing, he went to the bathroom and splashed water on his face. It was a lie. He would do his homework and tomorrow, at school, he would tell Scott and they'd figure out how to help his dad come to terms. 

He pretended that the idea of calling Scott didn't scare him. Because, somewhere deep down, he felt it might not be a lie.  
__

His heart raced as he walked up to Scott in the locker room. 

"Scotty! Hey. What's up?" he greeted jovially. Scott's head whipped around and his eyes widened. 

"Sh!" he hissed. "I can't talk to you, Stiles. Derek's orders."

"But you can't ignore pack," Stiles protested, feeling faint. 

"Stiles, you're not pack. Now go before someone sees us."

Scott turned and walked away. Stiles' legs gave out and he fell against the locker, breathing heavily. 

No. Nonono. Lies. It was all just a load of lies. 

Isaac! He would explain. Stiles regained movement in his legs and ran after the werewolf. 

"Isaac!" he called. Isaac looked around and suddenly shuffled along faster, trying to avoid Stiles. Stiles caught up quickly, however, due to the crowd in he hallway. "Isaac, how's it going?"

But he knew, as Isaac turned a haunted look at him, that he would get the same answer.

"You can't do this, Stiles. You'll make it worse." With a flash of teary eyes, Isaac moved on, leaving Stiles in the middle of the hallway, numb and in shock. 

Students milled around him, and he caught glimpses of people he knew would now shun him- Erica, Jackson, Boyd, even Lydia. As the last student ran to class, his legs gave out again, and this time there was nothing to lean on. He fell to the ground, pulling his knees up to his chest and letting out wracking sobs. 

He hadn't felt so alone since his mother had died and his father had wallowed in alcohol. 

It was half an hour before he stood on shaky legs and stumbled to the boys' bathroom, shutting himself in a stall. His hands shook and he covered his face, biting his left hand to keep it away from his bag. 

"No- I have to- I-" he faltered, because he spoke but no one heard. Hands still shaking, he reached into his bag and pulled out his pencil sharpener. Using his nails, he pulled at the screw until his fingers bled and the screw came loose, before pulling the blade out. 

He was numb, he needed something. Even pain. 

He turned it over in his hands, watching the lights overhead glint off of it, before he set it to his skin and felt the drag and flow- drag of the blade and flow of blood.  
__

He stumbled out of his car and up the stairs, shaking hands pressing on the opposite wrists, trying to hide the blood soaking through. 

Two weeks. Two fucking weeks of being alone. Even Jackson refused to push him into lockers. No one saw Stiles, no one even made eye contact. He felt like a ghost in the midst of humans who couldn't see him. 

Except he wasn't dead yet. 

He cut every day. Most days after school he spent with his door locked and sleeves rolled up, retracing old patterns and making new ones for hours. He made it slow, careful, deliberate...

Tripping to the sink, he ran the water and thrust his wrists under the flow, not even flinching at the frigid sting of cold water on open wounds. He ran the water until no more blood came out, and then wrapped his wrists up just in case. 

He wondered absently what his father would do if he found out. They hadn't talked since the argument- their only meetings were during dinner when the Sheriff had the evening off, and they didn't even make eye contact. But he wouldn't find out, would he. Had he even noticed that Stiles wasn't eating? Probably not. He wouldn't notice if Stiles starved to death.  
__

Derek ran a hand over his face, glaring at the staring woman across the street. Was he strange looking or something? Why did people always stare? He knew that if he told Stiles that, he would just laugh. 

But Stiles wasn't around, which was good and bad. It was good because Stiles was safe, and that was most important, but it was bad because they did need him. He kept peace, he held them all together in a way that Derek couldn't.

And Derek missed him. Hell, did he miss him. He hadn't realized how much he cared for him until he was gone. He wanted to see his smile, hear his sarcastic jabs, even be called 'sourwolf' again. He felt pathetic, but it was true. 

It wasn't until he heard someone call his name that he realized he'd come to a stop and was standing in the middle of the sidewalk near the Stilinski house. 

"Derek!" he heard again, and turned, only to wish he hadn't as Stiles stopped in front of him. "Derek, please..."

"Stiles." Derek could barely say that one word. 

"Derek, make it stop, please! I'm worse without you. The pack is all I have left, don't- don't take it from me, please," he begged. Derek swallowed hard as he took in Stiles' appearance. The boy was thin and pale, and the dark circles under his eyes told of many sleepless nights. 

He took an involuntary step back as his eyes met Stiles'. Haunted was the only way to describe that look, haunted and tired. He looked so, so tired, so tired of everything. And for a moment, Derek almost caved. Surely they could keep Stiles safe if he was with them. 

But then he remembered- they hadn't.

"I'm sorry Stiles," he whispered, before turning away.

"Derek," Stiles called after him with a choked off sob. Derek stopped.

"Don't talk to me again," he said, before he walked away. 

He turned back once, and saw Stiles cover his face, looking so lost and alone and afraid. But he refused to question his decision again.  
__

Another week ticked by but Stiles barely noticed. Everything was gone. He was a shadow, just drifting around. 

Even his sarcasm was gone. His last defense didn't work when there was no one attacking him, no one to even argue with. 

Derek, Scott, Jackson, Lydia, Boyd, Erica, Isaac. They felt like names from a past lifetime. 

He'd begged Derek. He'd thought for a moment that the alpha would say yes, would let him back- would let him live again. But he'd said no in the end. 

With a hysterical laugh that ended in a choked off sob, Stiles hurled the closest thing he could find at the wall. It was a vase, and it shattered close to him, glass fragments imbedding in his arms and legs, ripping through his shirt and jeans violently. Blood began to trickle and he half-smiled to himself. 

He used to be scared of blood, used to find it gross and something that should never, ever come out of your body. But now he willingly saw it every day- even brought it out himself. 

How much longer would he last? He felt that his mind would snap at any moment, like his last thread of sanity would break at any time and he'd be insane and alone. 

All alone.

Cleaning up the mess and changing his clothes, he sat on his bed and stared out the window. 

But Derek was never going to come through it again.   
__

"You're all idiots," Peter declared. Derek growled at him, but he merely raised an eyebrow. "No, really. If you think it's what's best for the boy, then you need your heads checked."

"What do you mean?" Isaac asked almost timidly. 

"Pack is all he's got," was all Peter said. 

Stiles was a touchy and almost banned topic. They could talk about him, but most times they'd all leave the room if he was accidentally mentioned. 

Even Jackson had trouble talking about him. He and Stiles had had a rough friendship (if you could have even called it that) but they had been getting closer, becoming almost good friends. 

"Why do you even care?" Derek snarled at his uncle. Peter smiled condescendingly. 

"What made you ever think I didn't?"

"You two are always arguing, and fighting," Scott said. 

"So are Stiles and Derek," Peter pointed out. "And I genuinely like the kid. He's got brains, which is more than I can say for the rest of you. He may be only a human, but he's sharp. You need him, and he needs you. By pushing him away, you've basically ripped his family from him."

"He has his father," Derek said roughly, turning away.

"Does he, Derek? Does he really? Because I seem to remember that the man is the Sheriff and Stiles rarely saw him at home. If even I can figure it out, you should all be able to get that through your thick heads, since you're supposedly his best friends."

"He's safer like this," Boyd said, but they got no reply from Peter after that, as the man turned to a book and refused to say more.


	3. Chapter 3

Every day was monotonous. School, half-done homework, more and more cuts. He felt himself growing paler, thinner, and more depressed day after day, but he couldn't bring himself to care. 

He pulled out a new blade, throwing away the old, dulled one. The new one glinted and Stiles thought it was beautiful. He rolled up his right sleeve, running his hands gently over the scarred and sliced flesh. Some were streaked with blood from where they'd reopened, and he wiped them with the wet cloth he always kept by him when he cut. 

Mapping out where he'd cut, he set the edge to the first area, one of the last un-cut spots on his arm. Without pausing he drew it across, the flesh pulling apart and blood running out and onto the towel on his lap. 

He could almost sense the presence of the loaded gun in his backpack, and he sliced again as he tried to banish that thought. He shouldn't go that far, his mother would have been disappointed.   
But for some reason he kept it. 

He sliced deeper and gasped involuntarily. 

"Stiles?" his father called and rapped on the door softly. Stiles didn't answer- he never did. "Stiles, we need to talk, son."

Now? Stiles thought bitterly. It had sure taken a while for him to get time.

"Stiles?" the door opened and Stiles didn't even flinch as his father cried out in horror at the sight of his bleeding son. "What have you done?" he cried, stepping forward. At the movement, Stiles flew to his feet, the towel and blade dropping to the floor with a splash of blood. 

"Stay away from me!"

"Stiles, you-"

"This is your fault! Yours and theirs and you- you took everything from me!"

"We need you safe, Stiles!"

"Shut up, just shut up! I didn't care if I was safe because I had something to live for! Now leave!"

"I'm not leaving, Stiles."

"Then I will!" Stiles grabbed his backpack and brushed past the Sheriff, bolting out the door and ignoring the cries after him. He made his decision.

Tears whipped from his cheeks and blood flew from his arms as he ran, clutching the backpack in his hand. He headed deep into the woods, running until he couldn't anymore. He dropped to the forest floor and unzipped the backpack, grasping the gun with surprisingly steady hands.   
As he saw the handgun, he was sure. He needed this. They wouldn't care anyway- after all, he wasn't pack. He let the backpack drop and stood again, regaining his breath and setting the gun to his ear.

"Stiles!"

And suddenly the pack was there, horrified and staring.   
"So the Sheriff called the dogs on me? Oh, so scared." And suddenly the bitter sarcasm poured out. "At least you're seeing me, right? Sure, it will be the last time, but it's good to know you maybe, sort of cared at one point...possibly? No? Oh well. It won't matter."

"Stiles, put the gun down," Lydia ordered. 

"I'm not scared of you, Lydia." Stiles glared into her eyes, and she unconsciously stepped back, eyes wide. 

"Stiles, please. You know why we did it, and just face it. You don't need us this much," Scott continued for her. Stiles snarled, glaring at his ex best friend. 

"You know what? I did- do! Because pack was everything I had. So just...leave. You did a damn good job of that before, why don't you do it now? Look, I'll even do it somewhere you don't go so you won't have to smell it and remember that you knew me." A twisted smile formed on his own face and Scott's fell further. 

"Stiles, please just-"

"Shut up," Stiles snapped. "If you won't leave I'll do it now." He scanned them all, almost relishing Derek's broken look before he realized something. 

Erica wasn't there. 

He whirled around and saw her approaching softly. 

"No!" he cried, but the gun was already skidding across the ground when he opened his lips. He dove towards it, but Derek got there first, grasping him by the shoulders and pulling him back. "Let me go! I need it!"

The last thing he saw was Derek crying, tears falling onto Stiles' head, before he fell unconscious.  
__

When he woke up there were no restraints and he was in his room. Swinging his legs off of the bed, he hurried over to his desk, reaching for his box of razors.

But the box wasn't there. Frantically digging through his drawers, he froze as he realized something else. His room was nearly empty. The pictures were off the walls, his computer was gone, his pencil case and cups were absent, and in the bathroom he could see that the mirror was no longer on the wall. 

Hurrying into the bathroom, he threw things around in a panic, hunting for something, anything. But nothing was left, not a even single razor. 

They'd taken anything he could use for relief. 

"I hate you!" he screamed at the door. He turned to the window only to find that they'd even boarded it up.   
He fell to the floor, staring up at the ceiling because there was nothing else to do.  
__

"-dry eyes in the pouring rain, where the shadow proves the sunshine, the shadow proves the sunshine..." Stiles sang softly to himself. He blinked back a few tears, fighting a sob. The floor felt cool on his his cheek, and a few tears fell and splashed by his face. He hugged his knees tightly, still staring at the ceiling. He felt hot. He needed something cool, but everywhere felt hot- the air, his skin, the remaining furniture and items in his room...

He needed out. He took a wire hanger from his closet and bent it, quickly picking the lock with it, almost smiling at how they'd underestimated him. Granted, he should have thought of it before, but now he was free.

He crept down the stairs, not knowing if the Sheriff was there or not. He grasped his backpack at the bottom of the stairs and slung it over his shoulder. Entering the kitchen, he slid the knife drawer open. 

It just had to be sharp.

And then glass was everywhere as an unearthly scream rent the air, accompanied by a familiar howl that made Stiles heart clench. A body had been thrown through the window, and Stiles stepped back as Isaac flew through the opening, grabbing the body and hauling it out, as it snarled. Grabbing a knife, Stiles jumped out after them. 

It was dark as he ran, and he had no idea why he was running after the two, but the old rush of adrenaline was pulsing through him, and his feet practically flew. Isaac would have been long gone by the time he reached the woods, but whatever he had threw him off with inhuman force and he went flying. Stiles stopped, ducking down as Isaac roared and jumped back at it.

Fangs flashed as the figure faced the werewolf in a crouch, and Stiles realized it was a vampire, a sworn enemy of werewolves. 

Grabbing his backpack, he sifted through it before pulling out his garlic and salted water jar and dipping the knife in it. They'd never dealt with vampires before, but he'd been prepared just in case. 

Snarls and cries of pain filled the forest and Stiles realized that the vampire healed as quickly as the werewolf and moved quicker. Though Isaac was by no means slow, the vampire managed to throw him into a tree. There were multiple snaps, and Stiles realized that numerous bones must have been broken in several places, which would take a while to heal. Without time to wonder where the rest of the pack was, Stiles stepped out of his cover, knife hanging at his side. 

The vampire turned to face him, sniffing at the air and smiling. 

"Werewolf blood is very nasty stuff," it said condescendingly. "Human blood, however... it's the sweetest." He cocked his head and smiled oddly, raising an eyebrow. Isaac whimpered and Stiles gripped his knife tighter, his need to protect his pack taking over, whether or not they were actually his pack. 

"I wouldn't know," he said. "I've never tried it."

"Your heart is steady," the vampire commented, straightening it's head. It's black eyes seemed to pierce Stiles', but he stared back unflinchingly at the stark figure.

"I'm not afraid," Stiles said.

"I could kill you."

"I don't care."

"No, you don't," the vampire mused. "Interesting." It began to walk, circling around. Stiles turned, following it with his eyes. "So why are you here, human?"

"Why are you, vampire?" Stiles shot back, stopping as the vampire stopped pacing.

"I'm here to get rid of the werewolf. Why are you here?"

"I'm here to save the werewolf," Stiles said. "Even if it might not deserve it."

"Stiles," Isaac groaned.

"Shut up," Stiles told him. 

"Aw...bad breakup?" the vampire cocked his head again.

"No, my pack kicked me out."

"Whyever did they do that?" 

"They decided I was weak, that it was best for me. But they took everything I loved away and left me alone."

"But you're still faithful. They must be fools!" The vampire laughed, glancing at Isaac incredulously. Stiles looked at him too and winced. The werewolf's spine was currently knitting itself together, and it hurt like hell, if his face was anything to go by.

"To me, family is important- no matter what."

"See, I'm a loner." The vampire smiled.

"I can see why."

"I could turn you, human."

"Hm...let me think. How about no, vampire."

"Alright, the human/vampire thing is irking me. I am Jeremy."

"Jeremy the vampire." Stiles laughed slightly, but it came out a bit hollow. "I'm Stiles."

"An interesting name." The vampire stepped closer, reaching a hand out and touching Stiles' shoulder. "You seem lonely, Stiles, and so am I. How about we travel together? I can turn you-"

Stiles stuck the knife between it's ribs and twisted sharply, holding it in.

"I'm not really partial to the taste of blood myself," he hissed in it's ear, "and I'd rather keep my idiot friends alive, even though they've left me." Finally he wrenched the knife out and let the body drop with a thud. 

Over by the tree, Isaac whimpered again, and Stiles went to him, sitting by him.

"I-it hurts," Isaac grasped at his side, and Stiles could see his ribs healing under the skin.

"Sh...it's okay," he said, unable to keep from comforting the werewolf. He knew he would fully heal, but he was still in pain. 

"We- we were wrong, Stiles. I'm so sorry. I protested at first, but then it seemed to make sense..."

"And now?"

"I unders-understand. I'm so sorry." Isaac reached up and set a hand on Stiles' shoulder. "Thanks for saving me."

"It's alright Isaac. Thank you for trying."

"Stiles, please don't try again. I'll talk to Derek. That-" he was cut off with a groan of pain. "That vampire was going after you already. Derek will understand that you're less safe with-without us."

"Thank you, Isaac, but he doesn't want me."

"Isaac!" Derek burst through the trees, followed by Scott and Erica. Stiles jumped back and they stopped. 

"Stiles?" Derek asked. "What are you doing here?"

"Saving your fucking beta because you're just plain incompetent!" Stiles growled, angry at the sight of his 'pack'.

"Stiles-" Scott stepped forward.

"Save it, McCall," he snapped. "I'm done with you all. So done. Isaac, feel free to call if you need help or someone with actual brains."

He turned on his heel and left. No one bothered to follow.


	4. Chapter 4

Derek felt raw and torn apart, as if someone had pulled him open and thrown his emotions out. His betas had all come at different times but he'd turned them away.

When he'd seen Stiles, all these emotions had flooded through him. Anger, horror, worry, fear, and-

Love.

It had slammed into him and he'd been left breathless and without words, without any way to comfort Stiles. After Kate, he'd scoffed at love. It seemed like a traitorous thing. But now...now he knew he'd never loved her. Not like he loved Stiles.

He shuddered, hugging his knees to his chest as he sat on the floor of his room. They'd all been too shocked and too horrified to say a word, and now no one knew what to say. They needed to...well, he didn't know what they needed to do. Should they stay away and get the Sheriff to deal with it, or take Stiles back into the pack and risk his life?

He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. Stiles had snapped, hadn't he. Someone should have something. He was the alpha, he was supposed to take care of the pack- but he'd been mute, tongue useless in his shock. They all had.

Stiles had said he was done with them. But he still looked after Isaac...

Could they fix it? They had to; Derek had the feeling that Stiles was safer with them because he was safe from himself.  
__

"Derek, we need to talk." The Sheriff had called Derek, and the alpha imemdiately tensed, different scenarios flying through his head. "Stiles is- well, he's not Stiles anymore. I'd get him a psychiatrist, but we all know it wouldn't do a thing. I think... I think we need to let him back. I would rather he was out there risking his life but living and happy then here, broken and trying to...kill himself."

"I wondered, but I-"

"Derek. His choices are his business. We need to let him make them himself."

"I know. It's just that I'm the alpha and I'm meant to keep them safe. Stiles is easier prey for everything. Well, at least that's what I thought."

"What?"

"He killed a vampire today. Peter was right- we're all idiots and he's the only one with brains. Fuck, what did we do?" Derek covered his face with his left hand, holding his phone with his right. "We need to fix this now."

"Yes we do," the Sheriff agreed. "We need him, we all do."

"And he needs us," Derek finished. "I have a pack meeting today. I'll tell them and we'll talk to Stiles. I'm so sorry, Sheriff. I feel like this is my fault. And then he tried-" the sob came out unexpectedly and Derek cursed his inability to keep it in. It was true, though. It was his fault Stiles had tried to kill himself. 

"I know, Derek. I know. But it's not your fault."

"I-"

"You love him, don't you." It wasn't a question, but Derek still left it hanging for a moment.

"Yes," he said heavily after a moment. "But I won't tell him, I swear."

"Tell him."

"What?"

"Tell him. He needs it. Knowing Stiles, he's wavering between this being our fault and being his. We need to let him know it's not his fault, and that it was an idiotic mistake because we're just that fucking stupid." The Sheriff sighed. "Anyway, just please. Tell him."

"I- I will." Derek sighed. "But I can't say it will go over well."

"I think it might go better than you've determined it will," the Sheriff said before hanging up.

Derek dropped his phone and hugged his knees again. 

Love. He was in love. Fuck.  
__

Stiles stared at the ceiling again. Thinking back on when he'd tried to kill himself, his chest hurt. Why hadn't they said anything? His dad hadn't even shown up. Sure, they'd looked a bit dumbstruck, but...  
But maybe it was better. They were fucking idiots, but he didn't want them to feel guilty when he left. 

There were plenty of ways to do it with something in his room, even after the cleaning out, but Stiles wanted to do it outside, somewhere his dad wouldn't find him. Someone else could find the body.

They hadn't figured out how he'd left his room before, so he got out the same way and sneaked down the stairs and out the back door. 

Out in the woods, away from the old Hale house, was a drop off. Stiles knew from the old police records that there had already been several suicides there, and he figured it would work. Turning east, he set out for it.  
__

"Derek!" Scott pounded on the door, loud enough to make sure Derek heard, but careful not to break it.

"Leave, Scott," he replied, willing his headache away.

"Derek, listen. The Sheriff called. Stiles is gone and he can't find him anywhere." 

Derek was off the bed and out the front door in seconds. Scott followed him and they set a rapid pace off through the forest.

"Did he take anything?" Derek asked. Scott shook his head.

"Nothing. No knives, pills, anything."

"Then what's he doing?"

"I don't know! I thought he might be trying...it again, but he'd have to jump. Oh fuck, what have we done?" Scott's anxiety and guilt poured off of him in waves, but Derek ignored it as he thought. 

"He must be at the drop-off," he said, feeling a bit sick. Scott swallowed hard.

"Alright. Go ahead, I'll text the others." 

Derek nodded and ran, feet flying over the forest floor. 

"Hang on, Stiles, please. I'm so, so sorry."  
__

Stiles stopped at the edge and looked down, trying to calculate the distance. He gave up after a while and sat, battling inwardly.

His dad had taken the pack away, but could he really leave him all alone?  
The first time he'd tried he hadn't thought it through, but now he had to be really sure. Thoughts flew around in his head, however, and he couldn't think. Grasping his wrists with his opposite fingers, he dragged his nails down his arms again and again. Some blood began to trickle, and then more and more- before his head finally cleared. 

He was miserable, he knew that for sure. He couldn't stay around. His dad didn't see him much anyway. He needed this and no one needed him. Finally deciding, he stood and wiped away the tears gathering on his eyes.

"Goodbye," he muttered.

"Stiles!" 

He froze as soon as he recognized the voice. Nonono. This was so not going to happen. 

Do it now! his mind screamed, but he felt stuck to the ground as Derek stopped in front of him.

"Stiles, I-" Derek faltered. "Please."

"The last time I heard that word it came from me and I got a no, Derek," Stiles shot at him. Derek winced. 

"Stiles-" he stepped forward, but Stiles backpedalled, still staying close to the edge.

"Keep back!" he cried out, panicking. "I need to do this. I just...need to do this." He tried to slow his breathing back to normal, staving off a panic attack.

"Stiles, please, don't do this. I almost let you go last time, I can't this time! Please, just come away from the edge."

"And then what? More shunning? More loneliness and feeling like a ghost? I'd rather die, Derek! Can't you see that?"

"Stiles, we were wrong- we were all along and I'm so fucking sorry. I can't tell you how much. Just please...let me explain." 

There was a 'no' on the tip of his tongue, but as Stiles' eyes met Derek's, he was shocked to find that the alpha was crying again, his face twisted with emotion and his eyes betraying his fear.

"Derek, I..." Stiles sighed, closing his eyes. "Yes. Alright, explain."

Derek sighed with temporary relief. 

"You probably have guessed it started the first day when you were almost killed. Every time you put yourself in danger, Stiles, I just...I got this odd feeling. Sometimes I got it when you weren't in danger either, but I shoved it to the side. And then I made the stupid mistake. I told your dad, and we agreed that you shouldn't be with the pack. You were right. It wasn't you, it was us. You just have to remember that we were freaked out, so scared that you were going to die in front of our eyes someday and- I couldn't stand the thought.  
"You know how the next part went- we decided to completely break off contact. I see now how foolish that was, and I'm so sorry, but we thought it was best." They were both crying now, and Derek didn't bother wiping the tears away though he was struggling to see. "Anyway, you got tired and sickly and just...well, you were hollow. But we still thought it was best until you tried this the first time.  
"I know we didn't say anything that day. We just took everything from your room that we could and left you, and I'm sorry. They were horrified and so damn scared that they couldn't say a thing and I- well, I'd realized something that hit me really hard, Stiles."

Stiles unconsciously stepped forward and reached out a hand. He let it drop a moment later, however, and sighed. "What?"

"I realized that..." Derek breathed deeply. "That I'm in love with you, that I was so fucking scared of losing you because right now, you're the most important thing in my life and I have lost so much, Stiles. I lost everything once and I'm scared. I'm the alpha- I'm not supposed to be scared, but I'm going out of my mind with fear because you are my greatest weakness. "We hurt you -I hurt you- and I'll never forgive myself. I just wanted you to know why because I thought that maybe someday you can forgive me. I don't want you to get hurt, but I know now that you need the Pack. Don't blame the others. Come back, Stiles- I'll stay away if you'd like. I just want you happy."

"I don't want you to stay away," Stiles cried. "I wanted to be as close to you as I could. I didn't even care that I loved you as long as I could be near you."

"You- loved me?" Derek asked with wide eyes. 

"I still do, Derek."

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," Derek said, and Stiles flew forward, throwing his arms around him and burying his face in his shoulder. 

"You idiot," Stiles whispered, "you fucking idiot. I'm not leaving you, okay? I don't care if I'm just a human. I'm going to stay and you'll be sick of the sight of me soon."

"Never," Derek said. "I never will."

"I'm going to need you," Stiles said softly. "I'm going to have to fix myself."

"You don't," Derek told him. "I will. I'll fix you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, several things I need to clear up before the next chapter. 1, Stiles is still not okay. He's going to try to be, and Derek's ready to move mountains to fix him now, but it's not over yet. 2, BAMF!Stiles is still coming and I have plans. 
> 
> Basically, the next chapter involves Derek fighting to build Stiles back up, and Stiles shocks everyone, including himself, the next time they're attacked.
> 
> EDIT- so sorry for the chapter numbering fiasco. I'm a bit of a ditz right now and I'd like to thank everyone who pointed the problems out. Thanks!


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles wrapped his arms tighter around himself and turned over, frowning sleepily. Wind whipped at his hair and face, rippling through his pajamas.

Wait. What?

He sat up with a start, nearly hitting his head on a tree branch. A quick scan told him all he needed to know: he'd sleep-walked into the woods. Just fucking great. The whole place looked the same all over, so he had no idea where in the woods he was. 

He remembered his dream. He'd dreamed that Derek was dying and he was the only one who could save him, and when he'd been trekking through the forest in his dream he must have been actually doing it. 

"Wonderful," he muttered and got to his miraculously unharmed bare feet. Gingerly stepping around sticks, he slowly made his way downhill, because he remembered that the forest went uphill. 

Then he heard the growl- two growls, actually, almost in sync. He whirled around just in time to see two werewolves approaching him slowly. A third came from behind a tree, and two more sets of eyes peered between some undergrowth. Of course he'd manage to sleep walk into the woods on a day when a pack decided to invade his pack's territory. Of fucking course. 

"Damn," he said, as what could only be the alpha stepped closer on his paws. The other four stayed behind respectfully as he sniffed at Stiles. After a moment he changed back into a human, eyeing Stiles with a smirk. 

"It's a human," he told the others dismissively. "But he smells like another pack."

Werewolf #3 growled lowly and Stiles rolled his eyes. 

"Look, Wolverine, you have great sideburns, but you really don't wanna mess with my pack. I'm afraid theirs are better."

The alpha just looked amused. "So you don't have an alpha?"

"Oh, I never said that." Stiles tried to back away subtly but gave up when the alpha laughed at him.

"If you think you can run away you obviously know nothing about werewolves."

"Nah, I know plenty, Jacob. I know enough to know they're not exactly smart, per se, and-"

The alpha growled deep in his throat, and it was menacing enough even when he was in human form that Stiles shut up and rolled his eyes. 

"Fine, bro. I'll stop the entertaining dialogue. So. What are you going to do with me? I mean, if you'd crossed me a week ago I wouldn't care, but right now I've got a pretty fucking stupid pack to look after."

"Did you just inform the enemy that your pack is stupid?" The alpha asked almost incredulously. 

"You bet I did, honey. I wouldn't have told you that if I didn't think you were all dumber, though."

"As entertaining as this has been, we need to move on," the alpha said, opting to ignore Stiles' last sentence. "I think getting you out of the way would start this battle nicely."

"Shit," Stiles said. His last defense useless now, he was left to the werewolves' devices. The alpha morphed again, bones crunching and skin shifting, and Stiles grimaced. That did not look like fun. As the last bone and bit of fur fell into place, the alpha let out a howl, muscles contracting as he readied himself to spring on Stiles. 

Suddenly something collided with the alpha, sending him flying off to the side. Stiles immediately recognized Derek as he leaped back onto the flailing werewolf. Isaac, and Erica also leaped into the clearing and soon the air was full of snarling and howling. It was five against one, however, and soon Stiles realized that his pack (or the part present) was being overpowered, as three werewolves attacked Isaac and Erica, and the alpha and fourth werewolf attacked Derek.

Thank goodness for phones. He quickly called Scott.

"Stiles! What's up? Are you alright? You ar-"

"Scott! I'm somewhere in the woods and there's another pack! Derek, Isaac, and Erica are here but we need you, Jackson, and Boyd right now!"

"On my way. I'll get the others. Stay safe!" And Scott hung up.

Then the werewolf fighting Derek broke away, bounding toward Stiles. He felt himself lose his voice, frozen to the ground as it neared. He saw Derek turn to look, and cried out as the alpha stabbed him with his claws, taking advantage of his distraction. 

And then he was angry. He was angry at his pack for leaving him for so long, he was angry at his dad for letting them, he was angry at this pack for invading, and he was angry at himself for being just a human. Pure anger coursed through his veins as he saw the werewolf rushing at him. 

Just a human.

Just a human.

Just a human.

Suddenly, with an unearthly shriek that had to have come from him, all hell broke lose. The noise rent the air and suddenly his hands were out, reaching in all directions and clenching tightly. Air rushed as the wind picked up and light flew from his fingertips, lighting up the clearing and woods around. He didn't know what he was doing but he couldn't stop. The four werewolves and their alpha were lifted into the air, snarling and petrified. Higher and higher they went, Stiles' own pack watching speechlessly. And then suddenly they were hurtling to the ground, the resounding cracks making Stiles want to flinch. Reacting quickly, Derek, Isaac, and Erica quickly dispatched them while they were down.

They shifted back and Stiles could feel them staring as the wind died down and the light vanished. 

"What the hell?" Isaac asked hoarsely after a moment.

"I-I don't know. Did I hurt any of you?" Stiles asked, suddenly worried. Derek let out a choked laugh.

"No, we're- we're alright. Are you?"

"What the hell?" Scott repeated Isaac's words as he, Boyd, and Jackson flew into the clearing. "You guys just took out a pack without us?"

"Well, Stiles sort of did most of the work," Isaac said wonderingly. The three other werewolves stared curiously.

"Don't ask," Erica told them. "It was weird magicky stuff."

"We need to see Deaton," Derek said, looking more tired than Stiles had ever seen him.  
__

"Light came from your...hands?" Deaton asked incredulously. "But- this is too weird." He, Derek, and Stiles were sitting in the animal hospital's check-in room.

"Why is this weird?" Stiles asked him. "Lydia does magic. This isn't really any different."

"Lydia uses spells, Stiles. You're somehow using magic without even thinking! This is very different!"

"But I thought I was just a spark," Stiles protested. 

Deaton sighed. "You're supposed to be. I don't even know anymore. This is out of my league."

"Great. So I'm even more of a freak," Stiles said bitterly. Derek stepped closer, laying a hand on his shoulder. 

"Stiles, you're not a freak. You just saved Erica, Isaac and me, and you think that makes you a freak?"

Stiles reached up and touched Derek's hand, sighing. "I don't know. I'm just scared, I guess."

"I don't think you're going to have to worry about Stiles anymore, Derek."

Derek nodded. "I think you're right."

"Shit. I have to tell my dad." Stiles groaned and Derek squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.  
__

"Are you alright?" Derek asked for the seventh time as they entered the house. The sun was just rising and Stiles felt tired enough to just fall over and go to sleep where he was, but he nodded anyway.

Deaton had promised to call in a friend of his to help Stiles out, and Derek had taken Stiles hone to talk to his dad.

"Stiles! Where the hell have you been?" The Sheriff came out of the kitchen, yanking Stiles into a hug. "I've been so worried! I heard something thump in your room and I thought you just kicked the wall or something, but then I kept thinking it might be something else so I looked in and you were gone. I called Scott and he said you were in the woods and that you'd hopefully be home soon."

"Well, that's where I was. The woods."

"But why?"

"I sleep walked into the woods the same night a werewolf pack decided to visit and try to take over."

The Sheriff turned pale and pulled back, quickly checking Stiles over.

"Trust me," Derek said, "he's fine."

"What do you mean?" The Sheriff asked him.

"I knew something was off, so I got Erica and Isaac and we went out looking. I smelled a foreign pack, and was just going to call the others when I smelled Stiles out there. He was cornered by five werewolves and we just...well, jumped in. But there were too many. We were losing when one of them lunged at Stiles and he just..." Derek trailed off, unsure of how to explain it. "His eyes turned black and he just went stone still, hands in front of him. I couldn't see very well, but there was wind everywhere and bright lights and he basically threw the werewolf pack into the air and brought them back down without moving himself an inch. We quickly took care of them, but he did most of the work."

The Sheriff turned to Stiles. "What happened, son?"

"I don't know. Deaton's calling in a friend because even he doesn't know. I have magic, I guess, and it's different from Lydia's."

"Well, you look terrible. Why wont you head to bed, Stiles. I'll call your school and tell them you're sick." The Sheriff rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I need to get to bed soon. Thanks for taking care of him, Derek."

"No problem. I get he feeling he doesn't need it anyway." Derek left with a small hint of a smile on his lips, and Stiles waved tiredly after him. 

"Thanks dad. Goodnight- err, morning."

And he headed up to bed.


	6. Chapter 6

1 Year Later-

"Make a wish, Isaac!" Scott called. Stiles rolled his eyes as Isaac paused.

"Isaac, I can only hold this cake for so long."

"Oh. Sorry." Isaac quickly blew out the candles, blushing as everyone clapped. 

"What did you wish for?" Jackson asked. Stiles scowled.

"Shut up. If he tells you, it won't come true." He set the cake down on the table and pulled out the knife. "Okay! Let's cut this baby." 

"I'll scoop the icecream!" Erica volunteered. 

"No!" Boyd whined. "Last time you gave us each a scoop and then finished off the rest."

"Shut up!"

"Guys! Stop fighting!" Stiles interrupted, handing the scoop to Lydia. "Here. Lyds can do it."

"She's just your favorite," Erica complained. 

"No, Derek is. Now shut up."

Derek smiled fondly at the scene in front of him, watching Stiles smack Isaac's hand as he tried to steal some cake. Stiles' rolled up sleeves revealed his dozens of scars that made Derek cringe- but it was a lesson they'd all learned and would never forget. 

Stiles turned and caught his gaze, smiling back at him.

"Ew!" Jackson called. "Dad and mom are being romantic!"

Stiles smacked him. "Shut up."

"Yeah, Jacks, shut up. It's cute." Lydia leaned into her boyfriend. "Let them be."

"I want my cake," Isaac whined, and Stiles rolled his eyes again, passing the plate to Lydia so she could scoop icecream on it, and turning again to cut more cake. 

"Man, you guys, I'm never gonna get cake if you all eat like that," he said, watching Isaac inhale his cake."

"But you love us anyway," Scott grinned.

"I'm not sure why, but yes, I do love you idiots."

Over the past year they'd healed- Stiles the most. Solomon- Deaton's friend- had been training Stiles, and the boy had taken to magic very quickly. Now he was as safe as any of the werewolves could be, as he had his magic to protect himself with. 

He and Derek specifically had had a hard year. What with pulling the pack back together and Stiles' magic lessons, they hadn't seen each other much for most of the time. But now the pack was alright and Stiles was needing fewer lessons, so he and Derek spent as much time together as they could. The werewolves pretended that they thought it was gross, but even Scott was happy for them. 

They weren't perfect- Derek still panicked when Stiles was in danger and Stiles still felt like he wasn't good enough at times, but they were okay. Derek felt confident that they could survive anything now. 

He stood behind Stiles and wrapped his arms around him while Stiles set Jackson's cake on fire with a twist of his hand. Colorful sparks shot out of it, and Jackson almost tipped his chair as he scrambled back. Derek smiled again, listening to his pack's laughter. They were still immature idiots- himself included at times- but they were survivors. And, in many ways, Stiles was now the strongest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm really sorry at how terrible this story turned out. I'm working on a new one that I have planned out waaay better, however, and I would love it if you all would maybe give it a shot when I start it?
> 
> Thanks for all the reviews. I really appreciate the support and tips. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Pleasepleaseplease tell me what you think.


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